


Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

by inkfiction



Series: Bleighton prompts [1]
Category: Gossip Girl RPF
Genre: Archiving previous works, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfiction/pseuds/inkfiction
Summary: Leighton muses on Christmas-time.





	Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is purely fictional, I own none of these very real people.

A/N: Mostly inspired by [these photos](http://www.justjared.com/photo-gallery/2503770/blake-lively-christmas-tree-07/).

...

It’s another year, another Christmas, and you just saw candid photos of her on the internet, out in New York, picking out a tree. And you know that ice-blue silk scarf tied intricately around her neck, tucked into her tan wool coat. It adds depth to her eyes making you want to — at the risk of sounding cliched — drown in them. You know that scarf very well; in fact, you’ve seen it tied around other, more interesting body parts of her. Not that any part of Blake’s body is less interesting than the other. It’s just a matter of perspective, or of the moment.

You click on the link for the next photograph, and oh my God, this one! This one just might be your favorite! The expression of extreme concentration on her face, the slight frown between those blonde brows as she considers a tree — it’s adorable and achingly familiar. And the way she is biting her lower lip makes you want to do a lot of things to said lip. You sigh.  _Click!_  Next pic. Her fingers bend around a branch, long, ivory, tapered and the ghost of those fingers stirs deep inside your abdomen. Your mouth is suddenly very dry as you watch her blonde head bent close to another tree.

You bang your laptop shut and clench your hands in your lap, and promise yourself for the umpteenth time that you would not stalk her on the internet anymore. And then you open your twitter on your BlackBerry and tweet an angry, angsty rant about how you think that Christmas Eve is highly over-rated and redundant, and how people should just stop celebrating it.


End file.
